The Warrior and the Artisan
by Akiluna
Summary: Bifur was a warrior. Always had been, always will be. Bifur was certain of that, until one day his world was turned upside-down by a goblin's axe. / two-shots. Mild description of violence.
1. The Warrior

**Everything belongs to JRRTolkien **

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**Warning: Light description of violence**

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**This is part of a two-shot. It is also a companion piece to my fanfiction 'To become a dwarf.'  
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**The first part can be read without reading my other fanfiction 'To become a dwarf' as everything described here happen before the events of said fanfiction. It can be read independantly. **

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Everything was silent.

The darkness around was hiding any enemies from his eyes. He didn't like that.

He remained still on his bed. If there were any enemy lurking around, he would be able to fool them like this; they would believe he was still asleep. For several long minutes he remained motionless. He waited. He was patient. He waited for his enemies to make the first move, waited for them to make that mistake. He was ready, waiting for them. Even without his spear, he was still deadly. As soon as he had awoken, his hand had grabbed the short wooden sword that was always under his covers as he slept. He wasn't completely defenceless.

For several more minutes he waited.

No one attacked.

With a huff he jumped to his feet and opened his door in a swift movement.

No one was hiding behind it.

Grabbing his wooden sword with two hands he silently made his way to the kitchen.

Images, no, memories, of violent battles crossed his mind.

He remembered the smell of blood in the air, the iron taste on his lips. He remembered the feeling in his arms when with one large sweep he would cut a goblin's head, gut an orc or smash a skull. He felt the slight tremor in his hands at those thoughts. It was the same before a battle. Anticipation. There was no other way to put it. He was a warrior, a soldier, a mercenary. He remembered. He was one of the strongest. He remembered the circles of bodies around him when the battles ended, the slight tremor in his limbs when the adrenalin ran out, and the fear in his enemies' eyes.

He remembered the smell of death.

It stank.

He was in the kitchen now. Sniffing around, he couldn't find any specific smell in the air.

But still, he could remember the death around him, the blood on his spear and his face, the strength in his arms. He even remembered the strange feelings that came once battles were over. Pride because he was alive, because he was strong. Tiredness too. But it had been awhile, hadn't it? Or maybe it hadn't. He couldn't remember.

He was a warrior. He was one. There was no mistaking this. He could feel it. He could remember it. Where were his blades? Where was his spear?

An axe…

Something tingled slightly in his head as he quickly made his way to the corridor leading to the other rooms.

An axe…

Suddenly memories assailed him. Goblins. Goblins and orcs were attacking the caravan. Breathing heavily he strengthened his hold on the wooden weapon. He huffed in annoyance and narrowed his eyes while images and sounds whirled around in his head.

He remembered… there had been a little lass. The merchants they were protecting had taken with them a little girl. Dwalin had groaned and grumbled when he had seen that.

Bifur let his back hit the wall of the corridor as memories flooded his brain. He groaned as he grabbed his hair tightly in his fists. The wooden sword fell to the floor and clattered loudly in the silence of the night. His head was pounding painfully and he groaned once more as he slowly slid to the floor. There, in the middle of the night, his memories came back to him too strongly to ignore them any longer.

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"Oy, what's their name again?" Dwalin called at him.

Bifur shrugged and threw his pack on his back before grabbing his long spear. He always felt better once he had his spear in his hand.

"How should I know?" Bifur huffed. "You're the one who took the mission's orders." Quickly he walked to the taller warrior who was waiting for him near the small road.

They were going to another men's town. They were supposed to meet with merchants and they were then going to escort them to another town in the southern regions. It would take a while probably to go down south, but the merchants paid well and they would most certainly be able to find another group to escort when they would make their way up north again.

"If I'm asking…" Dwalin grumbled, clearly annoyed.

"If you're asking, it's because you stupidly lost the parchment." Bifur smirked smugly at his companion.

The both of them had known each other all their lives. They had met when they were still lads.

Bifur's mother had died young and his father had just joined her in Mahal's Halls, when he met Dwalin the first time. Bifur had just arrived in Thorin's Halls. Before then, his father had been one of the few dwarves who lived in the outskirts of some men's city. His father was a good artisan and in the south, his talents had been recognized and appreciated by the men. Bifur couldn't remember living among any dwarvish Halls in his youth. But when his father had died, he had been young. So young that he couldn't possibly live on his own.

Thankfully for him, his father had been respected by some honourable men down in the south. When the dwarf had been killed during some raid against their town, those men had agreed between themselves to follow the artisan's dying wishes. Bifur still had family, up north, in a dwarvish settlement in the Blue Mountains. The men had discussed between them while a young, barely twelve year old dwarfling sniffed and cried silently in the background. And they had brought him to the dwarvish settlement in the north.

As he walked next to Dwalin, Bifur remembered how, one crispy morning, the very short and young dwarfling he had been back then, had appeared at the massive gates of Thorin's Halls with two tall men escorting him.

The huge doors were carved but once they stepped inside the halls, they only saw a natural cavity that led to a corridor. They kept going further, passing by dwarves who were starting their day. Most of those seemed to be working on carving the mountain. Bifur didn't have the time to look around too much as he was led to another hall were several dwarves were waiting. Half hiding behind the two men, Bifur observed the people around them while the men explained why they had come. As his gaze was trailing over a few older dwarves, Bifur saw another dwarfling further back. The other boy was half hidden in the shadows and Bifur noiselessly made his way there. He could tell that this other dwarf was older than him, but it didn't matter for the young dwarfling. Soon enough he learned the boy was called Dwalin and the two of them started to play with small wooden swords until a loud lady dwarf arrived, almost running, two young dwarflings following behind her, holding each other's hands. That day, Bifur met his aunt for the first time. He also met Bofur and Bombur who soon became as close as brother to him. Bombur's kindness and Bofur's natural cheekiness helped the quiet Bifur to adapt quickly to life in the Halls. And Dwalin, well…Dwalin became his comrade, his friend and the two of them were soon found practicing swordsmanship together.

Years, decades even, had passed since then. Now they were all adults. Bombur was on his way to become chef of the main kitchen. Bofur was working very hard in the mines. And Bifur himself was now a strong warrior and a mercenary for Thorin's Halls. Even after so many years, Bifur was still really close to Bofur and Bombur. Ever since his aunt had passed a decade or so ago, he and his two brothers had lived together. And his friendship with Dwalin hadn't changed. The two of them were often sent together in mission. They worked well together. They knew each other well.

"I didn't lose it." Dwalin gruffly said, stirring Bifur away from his memories. "And stop behaving like your cousin."

Bifur didn't even bother to reply. He simply snickered and started walking. Dwalin immediately matched his pace. They weren't in too much of a hurry. Still, this lost parchment might prove to be a problem if they couldn't find it, or at least remember the merchant's name. Bree wasn't really a big town, but it would be annoying to have to look for the merchant without his name.

They kept walking in companionable silence until the town's gate appeared in the distance. They were about to discuss how to find the merchant when they realized that someone was waiting at the town's entrance with a cart. Exchanging a glance the two dwarves decided to wait until they could speak with this person. It might very well be the one who had hired them.

Not even fifteen minutes later, Bifur and Dwalin were feeling rather lucky as the man had indeed been waiting for them. Quickly, as per usual, Dwalin gruffly started to review their hiring contract while Bifur waited, leaning lazily against his spear.

The merchant, Robert, was to be escorted with his son to a small town not too far from the western border of Rohan. Bifur didn't say a word but he eyed the lad. He seemed young but not young enough to be considered a kid. The lad even had a short sword at his side. Bifur highly doubted that he would properly know how to use it, but it was better than nothing. They only had to escort those two. It would take some time, but Bifur didn't mind that.

He frowned and turned as he thought that he had heard some noise coming from the cart, but Dwalin's loud voice distracted him.

"We weren't hired to go in this direction." Dwalin was saying angrily.

"Please, understand, no one wanted to escort us there." The merchant was saying, clearly impressed by Dwalin even though the dwarf was barely reaching his shoulder.

"And with reason." Dwalin gruffly said as Bifur made his way in their direction.

"But it's closer." The merchant sounded like he was pleading now.

'What's going on?' Bifur signed quickly and discreetly in Iglishmêk.

'Fake details.' Dwalin briefly replied similarly while still glaring at the merchant.

"Dunland is infested with goblins. There's no good road to go near the mountains. We'll have to cross the wild." Dwalin groaned. "This isn't the same as what you hired us for."

"But to go to Rohan, you have to go near Dunland. We just want to stop in Dunland." The merchant said and his face reflected that he was getting anxious.

"Why do you want to go there so much?" Bifur finally decided to participate in the discussion.

"My…my wife died and we have nothing left here. I can't stay. Our only chance is to join some of my cousins. They are trying to settle in Dunland, near the mountains. There I'll be able to build a home, have some land… Please."

Dwalin and Bifur exchanged a glance. Bifur sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand.

"Please. I'll pay you more." The merchant finally added.

Without a word Dwalin turned his back and stepped away, signing to Bifur to follow him. Bifur frowned and glanced at the merchant's face. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes. His look when Dwalin turned away was desperate.

"Wait here. We need to discuss." Bifur said before following Dwalin who had stopped twenty meters away.

When the two warriors faced each other, Bifur knew immediately that Dwalin was hesitating.

"We'll have to cross the wild." The tattooed dwarf immediately said. "It's not a mission for two dwarves. We should be at least three."

"We won't have to leave the road until late in the journey." Bifur replied evenly. "We can follow the Green Way and the North-South Road as we had planned." He tilted his head, thinking. "Do we call for reinforcement?" Bifur asked unconvinced, one look at the merchant was enough to tell the man wouldn't have enough to pay for three of them as an escort to Dunland.

"We should be at least three." Dwalin sighed and rubbed his eyes in annoyance.

Bifur glanced at his friend. Wordlessly they seemed to agree and without adding anything they both walked back to the merchant.

"We'll take you to Dunland." Dwalin said gruffly, though he thought it was a bad idea.

"Thank y…" The merchant started to say but Dwalin cut in.

"The amount will be the same as previously stated. We leave now."

The merchant nodded and, almost frantically, finished to prepare his cart while his son helped him.

Bifur and Dwalin waited patiently on the side.

"It's a bad idea." Dwalin muttered.

"Aye." Bifur agreed.

"We sure we want to do that?" Dwalin grunted.

"Aye."

Dwalin huffed but didn't say another word.

Soon after, they departed. It wasn't until much later that evening, when they finally stopped to prepare their camp, that they started to really doubt this mission would end well. They were just starting to gather wood for a fire when they heard a giggle. A very girly giggle. The two dwarves exchanged yet another glance and both frowned. Following the sound they stepped closer to the cart. Robert's son was currently trying to shush something that was hidden under the large blanket that covered the merchant's belongings.

When the giggle came once again, Bifur groaned and Dwalin immediately grabbed the blanket and shoved it aside, revealing a little girl who had been hidden during the whole day.

"You brought a kid and didn't tell us?" Dwalin bellowed angrily.

Immediately the merchant ran to them. The girl hiccupped and started to cry.

A girl. A little girl on such a trip. Bifur couldn't believe it. It was madness. Trying to settle in Dunland was stupid, but going there with a little child was even worse. The kid wouldn't survive in the harsh environment Dunland had become.

"It's my daughter." The merchant started to explain.

"That's not the point." Dwalin growled. "We had a contract for an escort of two people. Now it's two plus a child."

And the child was a girl. Bifur frowned. Humans were really careless with their children and their women.

"I can pay…" The merchant was starting to say when Dwalin angrily retorted.

"That's not the point. Are there any more surprises? Tell us now!"

"No, no." The merchant quickly shook his head.

After groaning loudly, Dwalin stepped away angrily. Bifur looked at the merchant and his family. Slowly he shook his head.

"You should have told us." He simply said before going after Dwalin.

That evening and the following days, the dwarves kept to themselves. They were hired to escort, so they escorted the merchant. The road wasn't really good, but at least they didn't encounter any trouble on their way. After several days, they crossed a vast plain where some ancient ruins could still be spotted not too far from the road. Dwalin and Bifur didn't waste any time. Neither of them felt comfortable with this mission.

Bifur frowned every time he would see or hear the little girl. He didn't like the thought that the merchant would endanger his family in such a way. Girls had to be protected. This one was completely defenceless. If she had been older, Bifur would have at least showed her a few defensive stances, and maybe he would have given her a dagger even. He didn't think that women were weak, after growing up with his aunt no one could think that. But he thought, like many dwarves, that women were precious and were to be protected. Protection could mean many things, but to Bifur it meant that women should know how to defend themselves.

He sighed.

He was a warrior. What did he know about these things? For him everyone should be able to defend himself. Sometimes he wondered if he would be able to do anything if he couldn't be a warrior. Well, he knew a bit about what his father had been doing but not much. He wasn't an artisan at heart. He was a warrior. Always had been. He wouldn't be able to be happy if he were to live a life similar to his father's.

He liked the warrior's lifestyle, the thrill of danger, the adrenaline rushing in his blood. He even liked the constant training when there was no mission. Sparing, and always aiming to become better, faster, stronger. That was his life. That was what he did best.

He knew he was a good warrior, he probably was among the best in the Halls. He wasn't being pretentious. It was just how it was. Dwalin was taller than most and used twin axes. He was strong, deadly and had a good sense of battle. He had great instincts. But Bifur had something else. When he fought, Bifur was free. There was something in him that was never free, unless he was fighting. When the rush of the battle started, it would break the dam that maintained him otherwise prisoner. Only when he was fighting could he be truly himself.

The odd thing was that Bifur wasn't otherwise an angry or aggressive person. No. Actually he was a rather calm dwarf and a life spent growing up with his brothers, Bofur and Bombur, had made him enjoy cheekiness and jokes from time to time, though not to the same extent as Bofur. Bifur was a quiet dwarf, and he loved a good laugh, but when it was time to fight, it was as if he became another dwarf altogether.

As he kept an eye on the hills ahead, he suddenly heard a noise. Without hesitation he grabbed his spear more firmly and slowly made his way in the direction the noise had come from. Dwalin quirked an eyebrow at him, but Bifur silenced him with one word in Iglishmêk.

'Noise.'

The afternoon had been exactly like the previous ones. Nothing had happened during their journey so far. They had left the road to cross the wild, but until then, nothing even remotely alarming had happened. They were actually quite close to the mountains, and that meant close to their goal. Once they would reach a small river, a few miles away from the mountains, they should be in sight of a human settlement. They were so close, yet clearly their luck had run out. As Bifur swiftly arrived at the other side of the hill and saw where the noise had come from, he immediately realized that their afternoon wouldn't be quite as peaceful as the previous ones had been.

Without any hesitation he grabbed one of his small throwing axes and with one swift move with his left arm, he threw the light weapon directly into the chest of one very ugly goblin. Unfortunately the second one just had the time to blow his horn before his head was cut off from his shoulders by Bifur's long spear's blade.

"Scouts!" Bifur shouted for Dwalin before grabbing his throwing axe and walking back to the cart and the merchant.

"Scouts? What scouts?" Robert said, clearly alarmed.

Bifur ignored him and walked to Dwalin, who was already grabbing the girl and throwing her under the blankets in the cart.

"How many?" Dwalin gruffly asked.

"Two. The second one blew his horn before I got him."

"You're getting old. Can't take care of two goblins quickly anymore?" Dwalin gruffly said as he grabbed one axe in each hand.

"Nah, I was getting bored and wanted some action." Bifur replied naturally.

This sort of banter was rather usual between the two of them. It was their own, weird, way of making sure they were both ready for what was to come. They knew each other well, this was nothing new for them. At this moment, they could only hope that the goblins wouldn't be too numerous for them to handle. Both Dwalin and Bifur were pretty certain that they were both able to survive another battle. The problem always came from the people they were there to protect. More often than not, one of them would make a mistake that would cause his death or worse, one of the dwarves'. Hopefully this wouldn't happen that day.

"You stay under there and don't you dare make a noise!" Dwalin growled in the direction of the cart.

"You know how to use this?" Bifur asked the lad, looking at the sword hanging on his belt.

During the whole journey, the lad hadn't even unsheathed the blade once, which led Bifur to believe he didn't really know what to do with it. Even when he didn't need to use his blades, Bifur would still sharpen or clean them every day. It was what any true warrior would do.

"Erm…" The boy, Tom, looked completely lost.

"Well, you'll have to learn fast." Bifur gruffly added before turning to face the merchant. "Do you have any weapon?"

Bifur barely managed not too laugh when he saw the merchant take out a simple metallic club. His laugh wouldn't have helped in any way. His attention was caught by a shriek and he immediately turned his back to the cart. The goblins were coming.

"Stay at the back of the cart and protect it!" Dwalin ordered the merchant and his son. "I'll protect the front and the horse." He added, more for Bifur than for the two humans.

Bifur didn't reply. His mind was now focused on the battle to come.

Silently, he waited.

Then the usual thrill he was expecting started to slowly grow in his chest. He grinned as his eyes caught sight of a goblin on top of the hill. Instead of tensing, his muscles relaxed. He was ready. He wanted it. His hold on his long spear was firm. A light tingle cursed through his fingers and up his arms, making his grin wider.

He was ready.

The first goblin was swiftly killed by Dwalin who didn't even seem to truly bother thinking about it. Behind it, a dozen or so of the creatures were already running at them in a messy assault. Without hesitation, Bifur jumped right in the middle of the goblins rank and started to swipe his spear right and left masterfully, killing in a few moves several goblins. More seemed to pour down on them, coming from behind the hills. Dwalin had no trouble holding his own, near the cart with Robert and Tom nearby. Meanwhile, Bifur was wrecking havoc in the goblins' ranks. Even though he seemed to be in a dangerous situation, Bifur knew he didn't risk much at the time. He was used to fight in such a way. He was a master when it came to use a battle spear. His weapon had a long and very sharp blade at its top. Bifur had also asked the blacksmith to add a heavy metallic part at the bottom. This way he could use both end to hit his enemies.

With another swift move, Bifur decapitated one goblin, hit another in the stomach, and finally gutted a third one. He was always moving, always turning or sidestepping. His enemies didn't know where to aim or hit. Bifur felt great. Little by little he broke free of the invisible restraints that hindered his moves. He was faster still. His attacks became even more unpredictable. He was free, but controlled all his moves perfectly.

The goblins surrounding him were even starting to step back. They were starting to understand that this particular dwarf would be tough to kill.

Then a different shriek pierced through the battle haze and caught Bifur's attention. Immediately his gaze narrowed on the cart.

Dwalin was still at his position, fighting near the cart, defending the front and the horse. But the merchant and his son, who were supposed to defend the back, had moved away. They had let the goblins push them away from the spot they were supposed to keep. That wasn't surprising considering that neither was a warrior. Dwalin would hold his place until he died or could safely go elsewhere. The same went for Bifur. But the merchant and his son weren't trained warriors. In a second, Bifur saw that one goblin was already starting to climb the cart after having removed the blanket hiding the girl.

In another second, Bifur took the decision to step back and go there. The girl needed protection and if the goblins went on the cart, they would have an advantage on Dwalin. Bifur couldn't let the girl be killed, and certainly wouldn't let Dwalin be stabbed in the back by a stupid goblin.

Leaving his position was dangerous because it meant piercing through the goblins rank again, and that would leave him vulnerable for a moment. There was no other way though, so Bifur started to act. With one swift sweep, he cut one goblin's arm and forced two of them to jump back. With one quick attack he pierced another creature in the chest before tugging violently back and using the momentum to hit a goblin behind him in the face. He was just about to gut a goblin when another piercing shriek distracted him.

The goblin was now on the cart and was slowly making his way towards the little girl.

Bifur swore and stepped in their direction, not paying attention to the goblins surrounding him for a second.

The moment he concentrated again, a goblin appeared out of nowhere in front of him.

Then he felt something odd. It started by a shock, a rather violent one, in his head. He felt it in all his bones and staggered backwards. He swayed on his feet but managed to keep standing. The next thing he was aware of was the blood gushing on his head, blinding his left eye. Oddly enough he didn't feel any pain. No. But a sudden rush of adrenaline pumped in his veins. His whole body was tingling, energized to a point he had never felt before.

Bifur looked at the goblin who was smirking. Weirdly enough, the smirk disappeared slowly and the goblin started to look afraid. Really afraid. As he took a step, Bifur felt all the restraints he had break at once. He saw red. Almost literally. His vision, significantly diminished as he could only used his right eye, narrowed on the goblin in front of him. Bifur felt an anger he had never felt before invade his chest and expand quickly. He let out his rage in a terrible cry before he charged. For the first time in his life, Bifur was free of all restraints, but he wasn't sure he was in control anymore.

For an indiscernible amount of time, every single fibre of Bifur's body was completely focused on the battle, on the blood he drew from the goblin, on the death he distributed around. He wasn't a dwarf anymore. He wasn't a warrior. He was death. His only purpose was to kill. His only goal was to gut, decapitate, slice and stab every ugly creature he could see. He was the blade of his spear. He lived for the fight.

When his last enemy fell, Bifur looked around, searching for another prey to kill. As he found none, he felt suddenly completely numb.

All the adrenaline that had rushed in his veins seemed to disappear in a second. All the purpose that was driving him vanished. There was no more fight. Bifur had nothing left to do. What was he now?

He remained motionless, standing at the back of the cart.

Around him he could hear voices. He felt movements.

Then he heard exclamations and a shout.

But still he remained motionless. He still felt numb. He still didn't have any purpose. What was he without the fight? Nothing.

Then a face he seemed to know appeared in front of his right eye.

The dwarf was clearly horrified and spoke quickly, but Bifur didn't quite catch what he had said.

Bifur's ears were ringing. He felt nauseous too. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't seem to find out what the problem was. Somehow he couldn't seem to focus much right then. He tried to shake his head, in order to clear his thoughts, but it felt wrong. Something was wrong. Had his head always been so heavy? Why did he keep bleeding?

The other dwarf was still in front of him, speaking loudly, but Bifur had difficulties concentrating. He battled against himself and managed to finally focus on the man's words.

"Bifur? Bifur can you move?" Dwalin's voice sounded different, horribly worried.

Bifur had to concentrate hard to make out any sense in what Dwalin was saying. He didn't know what was going on, but suddenly it took a lot of effort to simply distinguish words in the series of sounds pronounced by Dwalin.

"…r'sup men." Bifur mumbled, trying to reassure Dwalin that he was alright.

His mouth felt dry suddenly and articulating these words was already an achievement. It had taken him more strength than a good fight would have. Bifur felt a bit lost. He didn't understand why his mind was suddenly so troubled, why thinking seemed to have become so hard.

He saw Dwalin's face pale a bit. This wasn't a good sign. Dwalin was a warrior and he shouldn't have this look on his face unless he was worried.

"What did he just say?" The merchant asked Dwalin, though Bifur didn't understand any of it at the time.

"Move back." Dwalin barked at the man and his son, before he turned to face his old friend again. "Bifur, you are speaking in Khuzdul right now." He told his friend in a lower voice. "We need to take this axe out of your head." He mumbled for himself.

Bifur shuddered for a second, not having truly paid any attention to what Dwalin had just said. He was feeling terrible but he somehow remembered that he had a mission to accomplish. Shuddering he strengthened his grip on his spear and started to walk in the direction the cart had been going before the ambush.

He had a mission to finish.

He had a mission.

Behind him, Dwalin was feeling more scared than he ever had. The warrior had no idea what to do. By all accounts, his friend should be dead. Yet, the other dwarf was currently walking, slowly but walking any way. In a few long strides, Dwalin arrived next to his friend and asked him once more to stop, they had to take care of this injury now.

"Mission." Bifur grunted in Khuzdul.

Dwalin stopped dead in his track.

He had no idea what he should do right then, but he knew perfectly how stubborn a healthy Bifur could be. He had no doubts that his friend wouldn't change his mind. Still he had to try. Quickly, Dwalin stepped in front of Bifur and extended his arm, trying to grip the axe. Instantly Bifur jumped back in a defensive stance, his spear firmly held, his one good open eye narrowing on Dwalin.

Dwalin immediately saw the potential danger. He knew Bifur well. He had no doubt that if he made the wrong move right then, Bifur would see him as a threat and attack him. Slowly, Dwalin raised his open hands, showing his friend he wasn't an enemy. Bifur grunted and started walking once more.

Dwalin didn't have any other choice by to follow him. Quickly he turned to face the merchant and he barked orders.

"Put back the blanket on top of the child. We keep going. Now."

"Are you mad?" The merchant exclaimed. "We've just been…"

He couldn't finish because in a second Dwalin had stepped towards him and grabbed his collar. Forcing the merchant to bend down to be face to face with him, Dwalin growled in the man's surprised and worried face.

"We keep going now. Or we leave you behind. Your choice."

A quick nod was all Dwalin needed to let the merchant go. Bifur was still staggering slowly away and Dwalin kept an eye on him, feeling horribly anxious, almost afraid. It didn't take long for the merchant's son to convince the horse to leave the bloody battlefield behind. Soon enough, they were all behind Bifur who little by little managed to walk faster.

No one exchanged a word for the rest of the day.

That night, Dwalin tried once more to convince Bifur to remove the axe that protruded from his forehead. The warrior kept batting his friend's hands away, as if it were mere flies. He groaned and grunted in Khuzdul until Dwalin gave up. That night, Bifur didn't really sleep. He dozed off a bit, but he kept jolting and jerking at every noise he heard. In his mind, everything had turned messy. His thoughts were hidden in a foggy whirlpool, or so it felt. Pain was slowly throbbing from his head but thankfully the blood had stopped seeping from the wound. Bifur felt exhausted, but at the same time it seemed that shots of adrenalines were still coursing through his veins, keeping him awake and on edge.

Dwalin didn't sleep either. His worried eyes didn't leave his friend's for a second. Dwalin was afraid that at any moment, Bifur would fall dead to the ground. He could only hope that his friend would survive the return journey and that Oin and Dís would be able to heal him.

The following day, in the afternoon, they arrived in a small settlement.

The merchant was warmly welcomed and soon enough, Dwalin and Bifur were on their way back. Dwalin hadn't wanted to stay even a night there for several reasons. The fact that the men couldn't help but stare at Bifur, had been but one of them. Maybe it was because of the stares, or maybe for some other reasons, Bifur was nervous. Dwalin could see it. When Bifur started to strengthened his grip on his spear, Dwalin immediately decided to leave the men's settlement. It wouldn't do to let his friend go on a rampage there.

The journey back was exhausting and terrible for both friends.

Dwalin couldn't get more than two words out of his friend, no matter what he tried, nothing seemed to get Bifur out his dazed state. The fact that the words were all in Khuzdul wasn't really a good sign either. Bifur was in a weird state. Sometimes he felt almost numb, as if he was floating in some faraway cloud. Some other times he would feel this same thrill that he usually felt before a battle. The beast was still free, looking for a fight, waiting for blood to be spilt. But there was no prey to attack, so it put Bifur on edge.

Dwalin didn't know what to do or think.

Seeing his old friend in such a state unnerved him greatly. It scared him even.

But the worse was still to come.

Once they arrived back in Thorin's Halls, things turned rather ugly.

Dwalin managed to lead Bifur to the healing wards. As he walked past a pale, wide eyed Gloin, he quickly signed in Iglishmêk, asking the guard to look for Bofur and Bombur and to find Dís. Bifur was completely numb and followed Dwalin without question. They walked in the wards, slowly, where Oin met them in a stunned silence.

"Come sit here Bifur." Oin managed to say, though his shock was obvious.

Wordlessly, Bifur staggered to sit on the bed Oin had pointed at him. Shortly after, Dís arrived. Thankfully, Bifur wasn't paying attention, or he would certainly have grown restless at Dís' reaction. The princess' eyes grew wide and she paled, one hand slowly going up in front of her open mouth. It was obvious to all that she was horrified by the sight of the axe in Bifur's head.

Shortly after, three more dwarves burst in the healing wards.

"Bifur!" Bofur cried out as he saw his cousin on the bed.

The miner stopped abruptly, his face turning paler than ever at the sight before him. A strangled gasp was all Bombur could let out. His hands started to shake and Dís had to help the round dwarf to a chair. Bofur was completely frozen on the spot.

"Bifur?" He squeaked, his voice similar to that of a scared child.

"Calm down everyone." Oin managed to say in a soft tone, though his face betrayed the fear he felt. "We need to stay calm, right Bifur?"

Slowly, the healer walked to his patient. Every dwarf in the room was silent and frozen as they observed the scene unfolding under their gaze.

As soon as Oin stepped closer, Bifur grew restless. Once Oin made to take a closer look, all hell broke loose. Bifur violently pushed Oin back and jumped back to his feet, shouting angrily in Khuzdul.

"Stop him!" Oin ordered. "He's going to injure himself! Hold him down!"

In the end Bofur, Dwalin and Gloin had to physically restrain Bifur. The injured dwarf became violent whenever the healer approached his head and the axe protruding from it. In the back of the room, Bombur was sniffing, rubbing tears away from the corner of his eyes while Dís was busy preparing ointments to put on Bifur's injury.

"Bifur, please, calm down." Bofur pleaded his voice heavy with emotion while he struggled to maintain his hold on Bifur.

In the end, it was decided that Bifur being still alive, they would only cut the axe as much as possible, but they would leave the embedded piece in place.

Just as he had surprisingly turned violent, Bifur became suddenly completely catatonic. He lay unresponsive in his bed, and no one knew what was going on in his head.

"We should carry him to his room. He'll probably feel better there." Oin grumbled with a frown.

"Don't you need to keep watch on him?" Bofur weakly asked.

"There's nothing else I can do for him." Oin shook his head forlornly. "We may as well make sure he's comfortable."

Silently, he gestured for Dwalin and Gloin to grab a stretcher. Carefully, with Dís, Bofur, and Oin's help, the two warrior placed Bifur on the stretcher and carried him home.

Once all the other dwarves had left, Bombur and Bofur sat in silence by Bifur's bed. Both dwarves had been shocked by the sight of their cousin, their brother, with an axe in his forehead. Bofur had barely managed to gather his strength when he was asked to help restrain Bifur.

Now, night had fallen and Bifur was asleep thanks to drugs that Oin had forced him to drink.

Bofur looked at his cousin, his brother, and was suddenly brought back to the moment when their mother had died. Tears gathered in his eyes and Bofur sniffed before grabbing Bifur's arm and letting his head fall down on the mattress. Bombur wasn't saying anything. Bofur knew that his brother would never judge his weakness. As he wept, Bofur prayed, begged Mahal to let his cousin live. Oin had said that it was possible Bifur had survived all this time but would suddenly crash down dead. Bofur feared such an outcome. He knew Bifur's profession was a dangerous one, being a miner wasn't exactly safe either, but this didn't mean he wasn't suffering when he saw the state his cousin was in.

As Bofur softly wept, Bombur placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder. His kind heart was throbbing with pain. Bifur was the oldest among them. He was, had become, their oldest brother. Seeing their strong brother lying deadly pale in this bed was terrifying him. He felt a large lump forming in his throat and started to weep too.

"What are we going to do?" Bofur softly murmured.

Bombur shook his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He had no idea what to answer.

All night long, both brothers stayed there, not exchanging any other word, silently crying and praying for their cousin's health.

In the morning, Oin didn't make any comment about the red, puffy eyes both brothers adorned. The healer made sure that there was no infection in the wound, he feared that the dirty blade would poison Bifur's blood.

Days passed and Bifur was still completely unresponsive.

On the fourth night, Bofur and Bombur were awoken brutally by their cousin's shouts. They rushed in the room to find Bifur had thrown a chair against the wall and was using what had been the chair's legs as makeshift weapons. He was fighting invisible enemies wildly, shouting in Khuzdul.

"Bifur!" Bofur exclaimed, eyes wide with shock and concern.

"Bifur, what's going on?" Bombur said at the same time.

"Khayamu!" Bifur shouted before wildly stabbing some invisible enemy.

Bofur and Bombur remained dumbfounded for a minute before Bifur's wild gesture sent a candle in Bombur's direction. Bofur dived under Bifur's wooden weapon and tried to stop him, only to be hit in the face.

"Bifur calm down!" Bofur shouted.

"You shouldn't shout!" Bombur exclaimed.

"What the bloody hell do you know?" Bofur spat angrily while jumping back to avoid Bifur's next attack.

"Khayamu!" The injured dwarf repeated.

"Bifur." Bombur managed to speak normally. "Bifur here, it's me Bombur. I need you."

"Bombur?"

Bofur held his breath as Bifur slowed down and looked wildly around.

"Bombur! Bombur!" He shouted, looking for his youngest brother, his opened eyes not seeing the dwarf in front of him.

"I'm here. Bofur is here too. We're alone. Just the three of us." Bombur softly said, trying his best to remain calm.

"It's just us, just the three of us." Bofur managed to speak in a low, calm tone. "Come on brother, come back to us."

"Bombur? Bofur?"

"Aye, it's us." Bofur's voice was once more heavy with emotion. "It's just the three of us."

Bifur mumbled and let his arm fall at his sides. Slowly, Bombur and Bofur approached him. Cautiously, Bofur embraced Bifur and let out a relieved sigh when the older dwarf let him. When he felt Bifur place a hand on his shoulder, Bofur couldn't help but let out a chocked sob. Gingerly Bombur embraced them both as Bofur held tightly on his older brother. Bifur seemed to be absent. His body was here, but his mind was far away. It broke Bofur and Bombur's hearts.

It took Bofur and Bombur a long time to calm Bifur down completely. Bifur kept jumping to his feet randomly, jolting without apparent reason. None of them managed to go back to sleep. In the morning, Bofur was even sporting a blackening bruise on his temple.

It was the first of many nights that would be spent in much a similar way.

Soon enough, Bombur and Bofur realized that mentioning the axe to Bifur unsettled him. It seemed that the older dwarf didn't understand what they were talking about, or maybe it sent him back there, in the middle of the attacking goblins. In any case, it made him nervous so Bofur and Bombur avoided mentioning the weapon that wobbled on his forehead.

But other problems soon arose.

One of them being money…

Bofur had to spend long hours with Bifur. The older dwarf just couldn't be left alone, and Bofur didn't wish to abandon his cousin in their house. Bombur's job was safer and brought them a bit more money than Bofur's, and Bofur was able to manage Bifur more easily, so Bombur kept working while Bofur stayed home with Bifur.

But soon enough they started to struggle.

Bifur was simply unable to realize what was happening on his own. He was oscillating between an unresponsive state and an aggressive one. Well, he wasn't aggressive per se, but he would sometimes be lost in his memories and would start to fight against ghosts that haunted his mind.

One night, Bifur awoke in a startle. He lay in his bed, waiting for the shriek to resonate in his head, but nothing came. Mind numb he sat and then stood, stumbling to the door. When he slowly opened it, he realized that there was a light coming from the kitchen. He knew instinctively that it was the middle of the night. Bifur wasn't completely brainless, but concentrating on others was very difficult. It had become almost painful to listen to others, to try and make out what they were saying. But that night, oddly enough, he didn't have too much trouble to make out two voices discussing softly in the kitchen.

"How's he doing?" Asked a man that Bifur couldn't seem to recognize right then.

He didn't even try. It was too painful. He could barely understand the words that were spoken. He didn't have any difficulty to recognize his brother though.

"No changes, well, not much." Bofur sighed in a defeated tone.

Bifur remained in the shadows, hidden in his room, observing everything easily as the door was ajar. Bofur was hunched over the table, his head held between his hands. The second dwarf appeared behind him and simply placed a hand on Bofur's shoulder.

"He's alive." The dwarf with a complicated hairdo said.

"Aye." Bofur nodded with a sniff. "Thank Mahal, he's alive."

Bifur felt sad, though he didn't really know why he would feel this way. Perhaps it was the simple fact of seeing his brother so exhausted and sad. Bifur shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, struggling to keep his focus on the discussion as he could feel a growing numbness overcome his mind. The unknown dwarf spoke, helping Bifur unknowingly as the injured dwarf managed to focus on the voice, pushing away the numbness for awhile.

"How are you managing?"

The question was asked on an even tone. There was no judgement there. Somehow, Bifur knew this dwarf. He had seen him before, quite often actually. A voice in his mind whispered that he was one of Bofur's closest friends. Bifur had to shake his head once more to go back to the discussion.

"Not good. I couldn't go to the mine at all in the last weeks. Bombur works extra hours, but there so much one dwarf can do." Bofur replied tiredly.

The second dwarf hummed and the next sound Bifur heard was a soft thud before Bofur reacted.

"What's this?" He whispered looking at the second dwarf.

"Take it. You need it more than us." The dwarf said in a shrug.

"I can't!" Bofur whispered with a frown. "Where did you get it anyway?" He eyed the second dwarf suspiciously.

"Does it matter?"

"Nori…" Bofur sighed.

Feeling slightly dizzy, Bifur staggered slowly back to his bed.

The following morning, the crippled warrior was sitting in his room, looking absentmindedly at the remnants of yet another chair he had broken. As he was focussing on a piece of wood, his mind suddenly was overcome by a memory. A very old memory. In an instant, Bifur was back to being a little dwarfling, observing his father working. His father had been an excellent artisan. When Bifur had once asked him to teach him, instead of giving him a piece of metal to carve, his father had given him a piece of wood.

"Bifur?" Bofur asked softly. "Bifur, I need to go to the mine. I can't stay with you today. Will you manage? Will you stay here?"

Bifur was barely aware that Bofur was talking to him. Absentmindedly, he nodded. But as Bofur left their home, Bifur suddenly stood and went to the kitchen. He mechanically grabbed one of his sharp knives and took one of their simple metallic plates out of its cupboard.

Silently, Bifur sat.

Wordlessly he started to focus on the plate, carving dwarvish design all around its edge and then in the middle. Once it was done, he stood and grabbed a second one. Then a third. Then he finally decided to grab the whole pile.

As he focused on the carvings, his nerves slowly started to settle. The thirst for blood that had been awoken weeks ago in a battle against goblins was slowly pushed back in its restraints. The warrior slowly settled. The dwarf slowly started to come back to life. He wasn't just a warrior. He was a dwarf, a brother, a friend. He was Bifur. He could find a purpose once the mission was completed, once the battle was over.

That night, when Bofur and Bombur came back, they found Bifur still sitting at the table, carving a pot. All their plates were now carved with dwarvish designs.

"What in Mahal's name…" Bombur softly said as Bofur let out a low whistle.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Bifur." Bofur murmured as he looked at one of the plates.

"This is good." Bombur was clearly impressed as Bofur nodded.

The two brothers turned to look at Bifur. The dwarf let out a sigh and sat back, looking at his work.

"Caku men rasp?" Bifur looked at the two younger dwarves, asking them how they were.

Bofur opened his mouth, completely shocked. In the past weeks, Bifur had never spoken to them. The only words directed at them were said during his panic attacks and didn't seem very consciously pronounced. It was the first time since he came back that Bifur was actually talking to them.

Hope burst into Bofur's chest as he broadly smiled.

"Gamut-ai menu." Bofur chocked out before laughing. "I'm good, Bifur. I'm really, really good right now. Everything will soon be really good."

Bombur smiled too and immediately busied himself in the kitchen, preparing Bifur's favourite food. At the table, Bofur was telling Bifur what he had done that day, embellishing the events as he always used to do before.

Closing his eyes, Bombur could almost believe that everything was back to normal. As they ate that night, the two younger dwarves complimented Bifur again on his craft.

A few weeks later, they sold some of the carved plates.

Soon, the carved plates started to actually sell really well and Bifur was busy carving all day long.

But more than his new found aptitudes, what surprised and rejoiced everyone was that Bifur seemed to get a bit better. It was as if working on those plates helped him to settle back in his life in Thorin's Halls. Everyone was glad.

Everyone except Bifur.

The more his mind came back to him, the more he became aware of what had happened. Bifur wasn't stupid. He knew he wasn't functioning properly anymore. He knew he wasn't able to pronounce any words other than in Khuzdul. It wasn't something he did on purpose either. He knew he couldn't be a warrior anymore. Who would hire a dwarf who awoke every night screaming, sometimes even violently fighting against enemies that just weren't there?

The first time Bifur tried to train once again, he almost immediately lost his mind completely. All the restraint broke at once and Dwalin struggled terribly to fight him off. If they hadn't been using wooden swords, it was highly possible that Dwalin would have been gravely injured. After that spar it took Bifur a week of peacefully focussing on his plates, before he could settle once more.

Bifur wasn't glad.

He felt crippled.

Diminished.

He wasn't a warrior anymore.

What was he now?

A barely functioning dwarf.

Mahal had decided of his fate, there was nothing to do anymore. He only had to accept it. Bifur worked as an artisan now. The warrior was gone, coming back to life a few more times in spars against Dwalin. The artisan kept suffering from panic attacks and nightmares. And Bifur accepted it.

* * *

"Bifur!" A voice called him. "Bifur, it's alright. It's alright Bifur, no one's attacking us. It's just us." Bifur knew this voice. "Come back to us, Bifur."

Slowly, Bifur blinked.

He realized that he was sitting on the floor near Bofur's bedroom's door. His cousin was crouching in front of him, leaving a short distance between them for safety. Bofur knew better than to come too close and risk becoming Bifur's target. Bombur was standing a bit further away, he was holding a candle.

Bifur took a shuddering breath and grunted. He nodded to let his cousins know he was out of his memories.

Slowly standing up, Bifur realized that he was shivering.

"Are you cold?" Bofur asked worriedly, his usual cheekiness gone from his face.

"I can prepare something to eat, to warm you up." Bombur immediately added.

His two brothers were often behaving this way when he had an episode. Thankfully this time, he hadn't started to destroy anything in the house.

Bifur's skin tingled. He knew very well what was going on. He wanted to get free. He hadn't spared with Dwalin in a long time. He hadn't spared with anyone in a long time. Every time he had tried, he hadn't been able to restrain himself for more than a few minutes. He was on edge more often than not. Concentrating on the carvings wasn't helping so much anymore. Years had passed since the accident and Bifur didn't believe he would be able to get any better than he was now. He knew who he was. He still couldn't speak common, but he had stopped trying. His friends and family understood mostly what he wanted to say, though sometimes they had trouble translating some of the oldest words that came through his mouth.

Bifur followed Bombur and Bofur to the kitchen. He was a completely broken dwarf. He couldn't even speak normal Khuzdul. No. He was speaking one of the oldest forms and no one knew the reason why. Bifur was in a forlorn mood as he sat near Bofur.

He couldn't be free anymore.

He was a broken dwarf.

He was a warrior no more.

* * *

**The second part will be updated in a few days at second part will be more closely related to my fanfiction 'To become a dwarf' and will contain spoilers of said fanfiction. I would recommend reading 'To become a dwarf' before reading the second part of this companion piece, but well, everyone is free to do what they want. :)  
**

**I hope you enjoyed this. Let me know what you think.**


	2. The Artisan

**Everything belongs to JRRTolkien**

* * *

**Warning: This chapter would make more sense if you've read 'To become a dwarf'. It can be read independantly, but it contains some spoilers about a few details of the other fanfiction's plot. (Not much, but still.) **

* * *

He awoke in a startle again.

It wasn't uncommon for him to do so. This time though, he knew perfectly well that there was no one in his room. Still he felt nervous and on edge. He slowly sat and tried to rub his hands on his face to calm himself. He let out a shuddering breath and stood up. The cool stone under his feet made him shiver, but he didn't really mind. He scratched his chin and let his hands trail in his beard for a minute.

He was only wearing two braids now.

He could remember a time when his beard was adorning several braids with large, intricately carved beads. It was a time long ago, when he was a warrior. He had been one of the best, and at the time he was proud to wear the proof of his status in his braids.

But a stupid accident had left him broken and almost useless.

Now he wasn't a warrior anymore.

He sat slowly his feet dangling barely an inch above the floor and tried to get rid of the anxiety that put him on edge. It was common for him to feel this way, and he had learned, over the years, to calm himself down. Though it didn't work all the time, he had found that keeping his thought focused on one thing could help. Focusing his mind on memories, he remembered what had happened when in an angry fit, he had gotten rid of all those braids.

* * *

The plates and other items he crafted were selling reasonably well. From time to time, Bofur would help Bifur carve the intricate design. The miner was just as good as his cousin when it came to this craft. They had it in their blood, Bombur usually said. Bifur didn't pay any attention to that; he worked because it helped him tame his blood thirst and his anxiety. With Bofur's help, they could obviously sell more items, allowing their family to earn a bit more.

They were actually selling so well, that Thorin, their king, was sitting right now in their kitchen, discussing how they could potentially sell them to men.

"A few merchants, who came up to the market yesterday, seemed interested." Thorin said calmly.

He was sitting on the other side of the table, rubbing his chin as he thought about the possibilities this entailed.

"You think we should try and sell them in men's town?" Bofur asked, slightly surprised, before he placed a large mug filled with beer in front of Thorin.

"Do you think you could craft enough?"

"Certainly." Bofur shrugged. "But I'll have to leave the mines for good."

Thorin frowned at this and sighed.

Bifur kept silent, as always nowadays, and listened. He knew that his cousin was a good miner. For many, this wouldn't mean anything, but for a dwarf it meant that Bofur knew the stone, the mountain. He knew instinctively where to dig and where to be cautious. For the long decades Bofur had spent in the darkness of the mines, he and his team had only had one accident, and that was before Bofur was made leader of his team. After Bofur had become leader, his team had been able to uncover several copper veins, and hadn't suffered from any loss.

Bifur shuffled uncomfortably on his seat. Immediately he felt the three dwarves around glance at him. Bifur knew they were silently assessing the threat. Ever since the accident, every time he was becoming unsettled, Bifur would sometimes become violent. When he settled back and remained motionless again, he felt the three gazes leave him.

"Would it be possible for you to come down the mines every now and then? Give some directives and then go back?" Thorin asked, clearly he didn't want to lose Bofur's gift.

"Sure." Bofur agreed, sitting near Bifur. "I could come down in the mornings."

"Good."

Bifur quickly glanced around. He was on edge that day. He shifted on his seat once again as his gaze kept shooting around, as if he was waiting for an enemy to pop out of nowhere in the middle of their kitchen. He tried his best to remain calm. He knew how upset Bofur and Bombur could be when he had those violent episodes. Bifur tried to breathe calmly and to focus on something else. He saw that Bombur was quietly listening to the discussion, while preparing dinner for the four of them. Bombur was always calm. It was good for Bifur, it helped him.

"How have you been Bifur?" Thorin's voice forced him to look at the king.

The older dwarf was observing him, concern evident in his eyes. Thorin knew him well of course. After all, Bifur had been one of the settlement's best warrior years ago. Thorin had lost a good asset in the accident that had left Bifur crippled. At the time, before the accident, Bifur had often talked with Thorin. Dwalin, Bifur and Thorin had spent long hours talking and drinking companionably before. They usually would spar together too, but recently Bifur didn't spar any more. The few times he had tried to spar against Dwalin, he had almost injured his old friend. Bifur didn't know when to stop anymore. He didn't know how to hold back his strikes. He was dangerous. He felt ashamed at that fact.

Looking down, Bifur stared for a few seconds at his beads. It was Thorin who had awarded Bifur each of his battle beads. Bifur had been so proud. He had seen respect shine in Thorin's eyes.

But now, Thorin's eyes only shone with concern.

And Bifur wasn't sure he liked it much.

He grunted a brief unintelligible answer that made Thorin frown slightly.

"You're a good artisan Bifur, your craft will help us a lot."

Bifur felt a sharp pang in his chest.

He wasn't an artisan, he wanted to yell. He was a warrior.

He looked down at his clenched fists on his lap. What was he? He knew he wasn't a warrior anymore. He couldn't be. He was unpredictable now, and unpredictable meant unreliable. He wasn't functioning correctly, barely slept at all and woke almost every night screaming in Khuzdul and fighting against ghosts. He was becoming weak.

As he was thinking, his eyes settled once more on one of his beads.

Suddenly, fury overcame him.

Those beads were meaningless now. They weren't his. He wasn't a warrior anymore.

Angrily, he stood back up. Instantly, Bofur, Thorin and Bombur were alert, looking at him as his anger was obvious on his face. But instead of fighting against ghosts, this time, Bifur fought against himself. With furious, jerky movements he started to tear his beads away from his long beard. He didn't even twitch when his violent movements tore hair as well. He was busy removing all traces of his past in his beard when strong arms tried to stop him.

He shouted and battled against them, never stopping in his task.

"Bifur!" Bofur exclaimed. "Bifur stop it! Stop it!"

"Calm down Bifur!" Thorin repeated in a strong, commanding tone.

But Bifur didn't stop until all his braids were gone from his beard and all the beads were gathered in his fists. He was panting heavily once he finally stopped. His anger hadn't abated though. Bofur was trying to hold his right arm, while Thorin was on his left. Bombur stood, silent and motionless near the table. For a short moment, no one talked.

"Bifur?" Bofur softly asked. "Bifur, what's going on?" His tone was calm and even.

Bifur didn't look at any of them and stayed silent. After several minutes, they both let him go. Thorin was eyeing him cautiously, frowning as his gaze fell on his beard.

"Bifur. Your beads…" Thorin slowly started to comment.

As soon as he said those words, Bifur let out a wordless shout and threw all his beads in the hearth, right into the fire.

"No!" Bofur cried out, as he ran to the flames and fell to his knees.

"I'm not a warrior anymore! Why should I wear this? They are meaningless if I'm stuck in this place and can't fight a battle anymore! Why would I want to shame myself further by wearing beads that don't mean anything?" Bifur shouted, speaking so fast that none of the other dwarves managed to catch any of his words.

As soon as he had spoken his mind, Bifur turned away and strode in the direction of his room, leaving behind him three stunned and sad dwarves. The door to the corridor banged so violently that, instead of closing properly, it reopened slightly.

Bombur reacted quickly. Once he saw that Bifur had left for his room, he turned to grab the pot full of cooking soup. In a few steps, he strode to the hearth and emptied the content of the pot over the flames. Smoke and steam filled the room as soon as the liquid hit the fire. Bofur didn't wait for anything to cool down. Ignoring the heat, he quickly found the pieces of metal and gathered them near the hearth.

They hadn't been too damaged yet and were barely warm to the touch.

The three dwarves silently looked at the beads.

Slowly, Bofur touched one of them. His pain was obvious on his face. Bofur had never been very good at hiding his feelings when they were quite so strong. Bombur was extremely sad too. It hurt more than one would imagine seeing his cousin in such a state. Both brothers knew very well that Bifur wasn't happy. Anyone who knew the dwarf before his accident would know that.

Bofur forlornly collected the beads in his hand. He was still kneeling on the floor when he felt a hand on his shoulder. For a long time, no one spoke. Finally Bofur stood up and the three dwarves went back to the table. Unbeknownst to them, Bifur was observing the events from behind the door that was still slightly ajar. As soon as he had left the kitchen, Bifur had felt exhausted. He was often exhausted nowadays. He didn't go back to his room, contrarily to what the other dwarves had thought. Instead he stood in the dark corridor, watching his family struggle because of him.

"I'll come back another time." Thorin finally said in a calm tone.

"Nah." Bofur immediately replied. "It'll be fine. We'll do as you said. It'll be good for every one if we manage to sell those damn plates to men."

"Bofur…" Bombur softly started.

"I'm fine." Bofur almost barked out.

The older brother sighed loudly and brushed a few strands of hair away from his face before rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry Bombur." He sighed. "I'm fine." He repeated more calmly this time. "I just wish…" He half whispered, looking at the beads before he looked at Thorin. "Is there truly nothing we could do? What about…"

Bofur stopped his sentence abruptly and bit his lip. Looking slightly ashamed he lowered his head. Bifur wondered what his younger cousin wanted to say. It hurt him tremendously to see the usually cheeky dwarf looking so sad and lost. His injury hadn't only disturbed his life. He knew that already, but every time he witnessed it, Bifur felt more pain and shame in his chest. He was supposed to be the oldest. He was supposed to protect them. He wasn't supposed to hurt them like this.

"What is it Bofur?" Thorin's voice caught Bifur's attention. "Speak freely."

"What about the elves?" Bofur whispered shamefully. "Aren't they supposed to have great healers?"

A heavy silence fell on the room. Bombur looked surprised. He hadn't thought of that and it was slightly shocking that any dwarf actually would. He knew also the hate their leader bore for the elves and he wasn't sure it was a good idea to mention them to Thorin. Bofur didn't even look up, he was readying himself for whatever angry words Thorin would throw at him. Behind his door, Bifur held his breath. He wanted to moan in pain at the thought that his younger brother would go to such extent for his benefit. He hated himself at this instant. He was almost certain that Thorin would turn red and shout angrily.

Their leader surprised them all.

"I talked with Oin and Dís." He said very calmly, sadly even, as he sat near Bofur and placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "I asked them about the elves' healers and their magic."

Everyone held their breath, shocked at this information. The fact that Thorin Oakenshield would go to such extents was flabbergasting. It spoke volumes about how far their king would go for the dwarves under his rule. At this instant, unbeknownst to Thorin, he earned the eternal loyalty of that family. Of course, the three dwarves were already loyal to their rightful king. Of course they already respected him. But at that moment, they all felt that this respect, this loyalty, was genuinely deserved.

"They both told me that nothing could be done." Thorin continued sadly. "To remove the axe, even with magic, would endanger Bifur's life too much. Both are certain that even the elves' magic wouldn't change this."

"What are we going to do?" Bofur asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Survive." Thorin simply replied. "We are all survivors." He insisted before adding calmly. "Bifur is strong. Trust him. He survived an axe in his head, don't you think that he'll be strong enough to keep going?"

Bofur let out a nervous chuckle and Bombur smiled sadly.

"Aye, he's too damn stubborn to give up." Bofur said fondly.

"He'll soon be one of our best crafters and he remains one of our best warriors. Nothing will change that." Thorin said firmly, pointing at the beads.

"He's going to get bored soon." Bombur finally commented, sadness and worry obvious in his tone. "Bifur never was good at staying idle. He will grow bored soon if he can't fight."

"He can still train and spar." Thorin said. "It should help settle him."

"Haven't you seen what he did to Dwalin last time?" Bofur softly asked.

Thorin grunted and crossed his arms.

"So what? A few bruises and a broken nose never killed a dwarf." Thorin took a long, slow breath and said, his eyes showing how deadly serious he was. "I'll spar with Bifur. It'll be a good training, for me and Dwalin both."

* * *

Bifur still felt incredibly grateful every time he remembered that day. He had refused to ask about his beads, but he knew that Bofur kept them somewhere. Since that day he only wore two braids with family beads in his beard. Still he felt grateful for the support that his family and friends showed for him every day.

Now, twice a week, he would spar against Dwalin or Thorin. The two dwarves unknowingly helped him enormously. Those spars were enough to abate him, to calm him. Bifur still wasn't able to hold back his strength, but with the months and years passing, Dwalin and Thorin were now on par with him. They didn't worry about Bifur losing his mind to the fight, because they were just as strong as the artisan.

They usually spared early in the morning or late at night. No one else would bother them then and they were free to use all the space without risking hurting another dwarf.

The only times when Bifur would spar against someone else, it usually was Fili, Thorin's young nephew. When the blond dwarf had been lazy or needed to be taught a lesson, Thorin would throw him in Bifur's way. Usually, both Thorin and Dwalin would assist to the spar and, when it was obvious that Fili was about to get a serious beating, they would jump in and distract Bifur's attention, giving him another target. He had spared twice against Kili too.

Bifur grumbled as he felt uneasy. He needed to calm down. He felt as if he was about to lose his mind completely. He needed to do something.

Silently, he put on his clothes and shoes and walked out of his room.

He needed to go out.

His feet brought him directly to their workshop. As he stepped in, Bifur looked around. After all those years, he still had trouble reconciling his past with what his life was now. All around him he could see decorated dishes and toys. The toys had been a surprise for everyone. Bifur had simply started one day to paint one of Bofur's numerous wooden figurines. Since then, the two dwarves carved plates for their business, and made toys simply because they both liked it.

Not wanting to work on any carving right then, Bifur rummaged through a pile of unpainted toys and grabbed a wooden horse. He then made his way to his working bench and mechanically took one of his brushes and opened the small ink jars that were lined on the desk.

Methodically, he started to paint.

Each faint brush managed to appease him. Little by little, Bifur calmed down.

It had been twenty years or so since the accident. Nowadays, Bifur had come to terms with what had happened. He wasn't a warrior anymore. He was an artisan. His craft was recognized and many men and dwarves appreciated the quality of his work. Bofur was just as gifted and together they were now selling their products outside the dwarves' Halls, to several men's towns.

He was an artisan and it made him proud to see how much their work was appreciated.

He might not be a warrior any longer, but at least he wasn't hurting his family anymore. He still suffered from nightmares from time to time, but everyone around him had grown used to the broken, old Khuzdul he used and they were now able to talk almost as well as before. Bofur was even more cheerful nowadays. Clearly, working outside of the mines was good for the dwarf who was happy to work on something he really enjoyed. He still went down to the mines every week to see what was going on and give his opinion, but would quickly come back up.

Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were now as close as ever. Bofur would cheekily tease his two brothers. He would joke with Bifur and didn't hesitate to throw objects at him, knowing perfectly well that Bifur always caught them easily before they hit him. Bombur would listen to the two of them as they quarrelled and teased each other.

"Would you both stop?" The calm dwarf would usually say after a while. "Otherwise you won't have any dessert!" The chef would then threaten with a soft smile.

That usually was enough for Bifur and Bofur to stop.

"Aren't we supposed to be the older ones? Why do we listen to you?" Bofur would almost always whine, eyes shining with mischief.

"You don't behave like you're older." Bombur would then reply before adding with a smile. "And you love eating dessert too much for your own good."

Bifur always burst into happy laughter when his two brothers argued like this.

His life wasn't what he had expected, but yes, he definitely had come to terms with it. He was thankful now that he had survived. Being an artisan wasn't so bad. He still missed the thrill of the fight, but his regular spars with Dwalin and Thorin were enough to appease him.

The only thing Bifur truly regretted nowadays was that he wasn't able to control himself during his spars. What had once been a freeing feeling now felt like a terrible weakness. Losing himself in a spar wasn't good. It only meant that he didn't have his entire mind anymore. He was losing control over himself and was only fighting with instinct. He was fighting like a beast. Bifur didn't like that.

He let his thoughts wander, emptying his mind, as he kept painting the little wooden horse. Once it was done, he simply stood back up and went to rummage through the pile of toys until he found another one he felt like painting.

Hours passed like this, until he heard the soft clicking noise of the door being opened.

Even though no one would have been able to tell, Bifur immediately went completely alert. As he listened to the steps coming closer, he let his mind calm down again, it was only Bofur.

"Oy, 'morning." Bofur yawned as he entered the workshop.

He walked to Bifur's working bench and whistled.

"Wow, you've been here for awhile." He said, obviously guessing from the numbers of toys that were painted. "Nightmare?"

Bifur shrugged and Bofur didn't need to add anything concerning that matter. Instead he extended his hand to grab the horse. Bifur instantly batted his hand away.

"Oy!" Bofur huffed. "Why did you paint it white? I wanted a brown one." He whined.

"They're not for you." Bifur retorted, concentrating once more on his painting.

"So what? This horse was obviously meant to be brown." Bofur pointed out, though how it could be obvious, Bifur didn't know.

"I paint." Bifur simply replied.

Bofur grumbled something and went to his own bench, grabbing a piece of wood to whittle. Settling comfortably on his chair he started to whistle merry tunes as he worked.

"Dori, Nori and Ori should be back by today." Bofur commented after awhile.

He often spoke when he worked. Usually he didn't even expect Bifur to reply. Bofur simply couldn't work for hours long without speaking. It usually ended in quarrels and Bofur would sometimes even go to the extent of throwing toys or plates at Bifur to get a reaction out of him.

"We'll probably have to replenish the stock some more. I don't think we made enough."

Bifur didn't reply. If they had to make more, they would do so. There was no need to acknowledge that statement. The two dwarves worked silently until Bofur stretched and groaned.

"Alright, gamul khagam." Bofur said. "Let's go have some lunch."

"Stop calling me that." Bifur groaned as he stood up.

He knew already this was a lost battle. Bofur had been calling him that way in private for years now. There was nothing to do about it.

"But you do speak like a grandfather." Bofur simply replied with a smirk.

Bifur groaned but didn't bother to retort anything. He knew Bofur meant it as a kind joke. Together, they made their way to the main dining hall, Bofur whistling all the way there.

As they sat, they heard the strangest of rumours.

"They brought back a human girl?" Bofur asked the dwarf who was sitting next to them.

"Aye. Apparently they're thinking of making her their ward." A second dwarf commented.

"A human ward?" Bofur was clearly surprised. "That's going to be interesting."

Bifur didn't pay any more attention to them. Quickly, he ate his lunch and stood back, walking to their workshop alone. That afternoon, as he worked, he wondered why the Ri brothers would bring a human girl here. But instead of trying to find out what had happened, Bifur focused on his painting. Thinking of the girl made him nervous. He could hear a girly shriek resonating in his mind whenever he thought of defenceless children. He shifted on his seat several times before his precise work managed to catch his attention completely, settling his feelings and memories slowly.

He met with the human girl a few days later, at the market. Danà introduced them. Bifur at the time had been in a good mood. He never felt truly good anymore, but that day he felt alright. He hadn't suffered from any nightmares and that was a welcomed respite. He also enjoyed meeting with Danà. The lady reminded him strongly of his aunt. They were both strong willed and witty. Seeing Danà at the marketplace was always good for Bifur, it always managed to change his mind and helped him to focus on happy memories.

That evening, alone in his room, Bifur thought about the girl who had been with Danà. He wasn't very good at meeting new people. Most of them reacted strongly to the sight of the axe still embedded in his head. Simply thinking about it made him shift uncomfortably on his bed. But the human girl hadn't said anything, though her eyes had reflected her shock. But in her face, Bifur had seen the shock being quickly replaced by curiosity. This was different. People weren't usually curious, they were scared. She hadn't been and Bifur could only feel glad for her reaction. And more importantly, she had seemed to really appreciate their toys, and that made her interesting in Bifur's eyes.

He liked her.

Some more days later, he saw her again. She was in the market with Danà again. Bifur kept an eye on her as she walked around alone. Years had passed, but he still didn't like women and girls to be left defenceless and Bifur had the strong feeling that this girl was as defenceless as it was possible.

He kept an eye on her until a client came and distracted him as she went to another side of the market, out of his sight.

Bifur sold a few plates and a toy. He kept looking around, but he didn't see the human girl any more. She had probably left the market and was back at the Ri brothers' home. Bifur didn't really know what to think her. It was true that he liked her, though he didn't know her much, but it was an instinctual reaction. Still, he didn't feel completely comfortable next to her. She was so defenceless that she reminded him of another girl, much younger than her. He shifted on his feet behind his stand, unease settling in his chest. He had come to terms with the events that had made him the dwarf he was now, but that didn't mean he enjoyed thinking about them. That human girl was weak. She would need to be protected. Bifur wasn't sure it was such a good idea to leave her walk around alone. She clearly didn't know much about their culture and she shouldn't be left alone.

Bifur's mind was slowly starting to grow unsettled as minutes ticked by. The more he thought, the more unsettled he grew. He had noticed she wasn't even wearing her guardians' braids yet. Many dwarves would just see her as a human, no one would know she was a ward. Bifur shook his head several times. The girl was safe. She didn't need him. He had to focus on something else.

As he mused over those thoughts, the day slowly passed and Bifur was about to tidy up his stand when Lofà, the jeweller, came to talk with him. Bifur frowned, Lofà was an honest dwarf, but they usually didn't talk. No one, except those who had been close to him before the accident, talked with Bifur. They usually avoided the unpredictable artisan.

"Greetings Bifur." Lofà said, politely lowering his head a bit. "I wanted to ask you if you know who the human girl was. I saw her here with Danà earlier. She seemed like a good girl."

Bifur frowned. He didn't really understand why Lofà would want to know more details about Dori's ward.

"Why do you ask?" He replied, talking slowly and articulating as much as he could.

Bifur knew perfectly well that, except for the dwarves who were used to speak with him, most had trouble to make sense of his broken speech. Lofà frowned and seemed to concentrate a bit before he managed to understand what exactly Bifur had said.

"She went out of the Halls with those useless ruffians. You know, the ones that brawled with the blacksmith's apprentice the other time." Lofà explained not entirely certain that he should actually be worried.

Bifur felt his blood turn cold in his veins. He knew very well of whom Lofà spoke. Those ruffians, as Lofà had said, were a group of men who came in here to buy weapons mostly. They were always creating trouble in one way or another, complaining about the prices every time and looking for fights. Bifur knew that sort. They were bandits. Nori agreed with him, but Thorin still allowed them to come to the market. They brought money, and as long as they didn't create too much trouble for the dwarves, they didn't have any good reason to kick them out.

The thought that the human girl would have followed them willingly seemed preposterous.

"She went with them?" Bifur asked disbelievingly.

"She didn't seem to want to, but she didn't scream or call for help." Lofà replied as soon as he understood Bifur's words.

Of course she wouldn't, Bifur thought. The girl he had met seemed completely oblivious. She wasn't simply defenceless. She just didn't seem to understand the dangers around her. Bifur had seen her looking around with wide eyes, clearly too absorbed in whatever she was observing to realize what was going on around her. Bifur groaned. She probably hadn't even thought about screaming. She had to be taught. She had to be protected and taught about the dangers lurking around here. From what Bifur had gathered, she was lost and couldn't go back to her home, a home that was completely different from this place. She probably was completely clueless.

"So, who is she?" Lofà asked, clearly becoming unsettled by Bifur's sudden nervousness.

"She's Dori's ward." Bifur huffed as he started to stride away.

"She didn't wear any braid!" Lofà exclaimed, clearly worried now.

"Not yet." Bifur huffed.

The two dwarves didn't need to talk to know that they were both going in the same direction; the guards' post. There, Bifur wasn't surprised to find Danà, Gloin and the Ri brothers.

"Bifur!" Danà exclaimed anxiously as she saw him. "Have you seen Amelia?"

"She's outside." Bifur replied.

While Lofà explained what he had witnessed, Bifur went to Nori.

Bifur knew like everyone else that Nori was a thief. Bifur didn't think much of it. He had known the Ri brothers since he had come to live in the Halls. For as long as he remembered, Nori had been Bofur's closest friend. The artisan didn't agree much with Nori's choice of profession, but it had never truly influenced his relationship with Nori. Bifur knew that the thief was as loyal as it was possible to be. Bifur had once been a warrior, and as such he knew that he could trust Nori. The thief wasn't a warrior, but he had honour and strength. Bifur trusted him.

"They took her." He simply said in a whisper.

"The group from last time?" Nori asked, his eyes narrowing on Bifur.

"Aye."

Nori nodded and was about to go out when Bofur came in.

"What's going on? Why are you all here? Péli told me…" He started to speak when Nori cut in.

"Amelia's been taken away."

Instantly Bofur met Bifur's eyes and replied without any hesitation.

"We'll help."

"Alright." Gloin huffed.

Quickly, they divided into two groups and went outside, looking for the human girl.

Once she was found, the dwarves discussed at length between them what should be done, but as no agreement between them could be found, the situation didn't change. As the days and weeks passed, Bifur slowly got accustomed to Amelia's presence. He didn't get to really know her though. The poor lass couldn't understand him so there was no point for him to try and have a discussion with her.

It was one of the things that the other dwarves probably didn't really understand, but Bifur sometimes felt extremely lonely. Since his accident, Bifur hadn't had any real discussion with anyone. He could still understand everything that was said around him, but the opposite wasn't true. He knew his closest friends, his kin, his family, made efforts to catch the meaning of his sentences. But so much of what he truly wanted to say was completely lost in the difficulty of the translation.

It hurt almost physically sometimes, to be in a room filled of people and not being able to communicate with any one of them. So it wasn't really surprising that, though Bifur was often present during discussions regarding Amelia, he never really participated. The human girl seemed to have a gift to find herself in trouble. It was a true wonder. For her guardians, it was a nightmare though. It was in the dwarvish culture to take care of women folk, so it wasn't surprising that Dori and Balin would often discuss Amelia's weakness. And often other dwarves were involved in those discussions.

Bifur always listened. He couldn't help but frown every time Dori would refuse to train the girl. Balin seemed to think that she should be trained at least a bit, but Dori didn't want her to be hurt. Nori always stayed silent, but Bifur knew the thief was unsure about what was best. The other's opinions were mixed and as time passed, the girl remained weak and untrained.

Bifur never gave his opinion, until one day he finally spoke up.

The girl had been through a lot of hardships since she had first arrived. To Bifur, the fact she had survived and was still sane proved she had some strength. But she needed to be trained and clearly she wanted to.

Currently, Bifur was sitting at a table and all the other dwarves were shouting at each others, not one of them agreeing with the others about the girl's training. Some said that Bifur should help in training her, the others vocally disagreed.

Bifur hadn't slept well recently, and neither Dwalin nor Thorin had had the time to spar with him. It seemed that the dwarves had forgotten why Bifur needed to spar. They had forgotten it was helping him to stay calm. As the shouts grew louder around him, Bifur suddenly stood up and banged both his fists on the wooden table.

Instantly every dwarf was reminded who was sitting amongst them. They all tensed and observed the unstable dwarf.

"She needs to be trained." Bifur calmly said in his gruff voice. "I will help."

"Bifur, are you sure it's a good idea?" Bofur said hesitantly.

"I will help." Bifur insisted.

His memories kept showing him the face of a little, defenceless girl who had shrieked loudly at the sight of a goblin.

If he could help it, Bifur will do his best to avoid such events to occur again.

"What would you do if she got attacked again? What would you do if one day she's outside and attacked?" Bifur gruffly asked Dori.

The dwarves around the table managed to quickly translate his words, so Bifur didn't have to wait for long to get an answer.

"I'll protect her!" Dori spat angrily.

"I protected a girl once too." Bifur retorted, pointing at his forehead and everyone gasped, the meaning of his words and gesture clear enough.

Yes, they truly seemed to have forgotten whom it was they were speaking to.

"I protected a defenceless girl, and it only weakened and endangered everyone."

"She can't be a warrior!" Dori protested weakly.

"No, but she can't be defenceless either!" Bifur commented before sitting back.

Weeks passed again until the day Bifur faced Amelia in the training area. Dwalin and Gloin were both here. Gloin was a strong warrior and he would be able to help Dwalin if Bifur lost his mind. Bifur was nervous about it all. He wanted to help, but he feared he would injure the young human healer. Now that he knew her better, he liked her a lot. She was a kind, though completely clueless, girl.

As they started their spar, Bifur started to battle against himself.

He could feel the beast inside him fighting to break free.

As Bifur fought himself to focus on the spar, he slowly managed to go through the simple movements that Amelia had been taught. His arms were trembling slightly and he could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. It was physically painful to stop himself from letting go. Bifur tried his best. He truly tried. He could see Dwalin observing him from the corner of his eyes, making him aware that this wasn't a regular spar.

The girl he was facing was weak. Her strikes didn't have any power. It was too easy for him to avoid being hit. Bifur's fists clenched until his knuckles were white. It wasn't his usual weapon, but fighting with a staff instead of a spear wasn't too different. The beast within him was pushing, slowly forcing its way out. Bifur suddenly feared he would hurt Amelia. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did.

He was struggling until the moment she managed to hit his staff with significantly more force than before. Surprised, Bifur stepped back and, for a second, the little control he had over himself faltered. Rather suddenly, he couldn't help but attack back violently. He thought that Amelia would be scared, but her face only reflected her focus and seriousness. She managed to avoid his attack and Bifur managed to stay focused for a few seconds more before the beast broke free.

Bifur feared he would truly hurt her, but oddly enough, he managed not to. The beast didn't hurt Amelia. It was free, truly free, and Bifur's attacks were obviously faster and stronger. He wasn't following the pattern taught to Amelia anymore. His attacks were natural. They flowed without faltering. From the corner of his eyes he saw Gloin and Dwalin take a step closer, readying themselves in case they would have to intervene. Bifur didn't care. He could take down the three of them. He knew it. The beast kept attacking the girl. Faster. Stronger. She held her own for a bit. Not for long, but long enough for Bifur to be curious about her abilities.

Something puzzling was going on, Bifur realized. The beast was free, but it wasn't as violent as it could be. Bifur still had some control. He could still alter the force behind each strike. Even though it wasn't much, it was enough not to hurt the girl.

As soon as the beast broke free though, the spar didn't last much longer, and soon enough Amelia's training session was over.

Bifur was breathing heavily as he watched Amelia leave the training ground. He was struggling to keep himself calm. The spar hadn't been enough to calm him. It was quite the contrary actually. He needed to fight someone. He had to.

Bifur glanced around. There were a lot of dwarves who were still training, but his eyes met Dwalin's. The other warrior knew him well. Without exchanging a word, Dwalin stepped closer, holding two wooden swords, and nodded to Bifur.

The artisan didn't hold back and the beast came out completely unhindered. The next day though, against Amelia, the beast remained reasonable once again, until it fought against Dwalin once more.

Soon enough, Bifur realized that sparing with Amelia was helping him tremendously.

She wasn't a threat. She was a woman to be protected. Little by little, Bifur managed to control his attacks more, even though Amelia had no idea how difficult it was for Bifur to spar against her. Every time Bifur couldn't help but break all restraints. Every time though, the freed beast managed to hold back.

Through those spars, and unbeknownst to everyone, Bifur slowly regained control over himself. Those spars with Amelia gave him a glimpse of what he had been. He had once been able to control his attacks. He had once been a great warrior. Against her, little by little, he managed to reacquaint himself with who he once was. No one knew, but it was a bittersweet feeling for Bifur.

Bifur wasn't a beast in those moments.

He was a warrior once again.

Even when the thrill made his limbs tingle, even when adrenaline was flowing freely in his veins, even when the beast he hid in him was free…even then, he was still able to focus, to be relatively in control. His mind was still his. He was able to be free again. He was able to help. He was useful. He had a new purpose. All those thoughts made Bifur happy, it calmed him, soothed his damaged soul. He wasn't just a broken dwarf anymore.

Each time Amelia would smile and thank him for the lesson, he would feel grateful. Bifur hadn't truly been happy until then. No one had truly understood that, even though he could spar against Thorin and Dwalin, he wasn't really himself then, and he hadn't liked how he would lose control during those fights.

But with Amelia, things were different.

He was free but in control.

He wasn't a beast then.

He wasn't really a warrior either.

He clearly wasn't just an artisan anymore.

One evening, as he sat on his bed, Bifur realized he had spent most of his life trying to give a name to who he was. He had tried so hard to fit as a warrior. Once this part of his life had been taken from him, he had been angry. He had felt desperate. He had then tried his best to ignore the beast in him, he had never mentioned it to anyone after all. He had forced himself to become an artisan. He had tried to be proud of his craft, and somehow he genuinely was. Bifur had spent so much time trying to define what he was.

That night though, as he looked at his backpack on the floor, he realized that he had been wrong. The next morning, he would leave the Halls to follow his king on a quest. The next morning, all those labels wouldn't matter anymore. He understood that now. It didn't matter what his job was, or whether or not he could speak common.

It didn't matter that he was going berserk during fights.

It didn't matter that he had an axe in the head.

It didn't matter that he had once been a warrior, and then an artisan.

He was a dwarf of Thorin's Halls, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

**I truly hope you enjoyed this little companion piece. I know it isn't much, but I still wanted to write something that was more specifically about Bifur. I don't think this dwarf get enough attention :) **

**I know as well that those of you who read to become a dwarf want a piece with one of the Ri brothers' POV...but well, inspiration hasn't struck yet (though I have a few ideas, it won't happen until later).**

**Thanks for reading this story. I appreciate the support :)  
**


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